


Oh, to be young again!

by gruener_regen



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bottom Sherlock, Headaches & Migraines, M/M, Mrs. Hudson Ships It, Suggestive Dialogue, Top John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 05:12:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5572276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gruener_regen/pseuds/gruener_regen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What is there better after a long day at work, than your flatmate drooling over your leg while you scratch his head and convince your landlady your more lively than Mrs Turner's married ones next door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh, to be young again!

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short something. I dunno what this is but the special is coming and I ship them.

John's spine cracked as he got off his bike. This had been quite a long day indeed. All he wanted to do was throw his backpack in a corner, get out of this damn winterjacket and watch some crap-telly to get his mind off of things. It wasn't everyday that you had to diagnose two patients with terminal illness in a row. He just hoped Sherlock wasn't going to drag him on another case. Not tonight at least. Some peace and quiet would be nice.

„Oh John, home already? I only just brought up biscuits, if you hurry upstairs there might still be some left. But you know how hungry Sherlock is after a case.“

A case? 

„Did he take another case this morning already?“

Mrs Hudson chuckled and waved him upstairs. „Oh no, he left yesterday night, right after my movie finished. At around half past midnight I believe.“

Yes, he had already been asleep then. So Sherlock had taken another case without him, huh? John's hand balled to a fist as he walked up the stairs. Not like it bothered him or anything but he at least could have send him a text. Since when did Sherlock shy away from contacting him while he was at work? 

He entered the flat without another word to Mrs Hudson and gently placed his backpack next to the door so that he'd remember to take it upstairs later that night. Sherlock was sprawled out over the couch, an almost empty plate with biscuits on his chest, one hand kept shovelling the biscuits in his mouth one by one and the other rested above his forehead. 

„Sherlock.“

„John!“

He proceeded to take off his winterjacket and shoes and placed them aside. Sherlock's eyes had shot open and he now watched his flatmate carefully as John stepped into the kitchen and prepared tea for himself. 

„Fancy a cuppa?“ Sherlock nodded and placed the plate with the remaining biscuits on the floor next to him. In his defence, he'd left some biscuits for John. Biscuits, plural. He didn't care to elaborate on the exact number. But the frown on John's face as he brought the tea over didn't exactly show his approval. He grabbed the biscuits off the plate and muttered a 'thanks'. 

„So, you took another case?“, he asked while he let himself sink into his chair and picked up the newspapers. He hadn't gotten the chance to read them yet that day, might as well act as if he were reading them now. 

„Don't remind me. Tedious business. Plain as day. Didn't even need to wake you for it, all I had to do was go over the details. Sometimes I think Mycroft solely exists to bug me.“ 

„Only sometimes?“ 

Well, with that John was alright. He didn't particularly like Mycrofts cases. Most of them he couldn't even write about. Sherlock sighed and leaned back, both his hands now resting on his head. 

„While he's not busy stuffing himself full with baked goods.“

„ _He's_ stuffing himself?“

Sherlock didn't seem to hear him. His hands still grasping onto his head as if in pain. A headache? Must be pretty bad if he wasn't whining about it. 

„Took some Aspirin?“, John asked and nipped at his tea. 

„Nothing left.“ Well that was weird. John was sure that he'd only just bought more last week...

„Experiment?“ Why are you still surprised John? 

With a sigh he finished his tea, placed the cup on the table next to his chair and walked over to the couch, replacing Sherlock's hands with his own. 

„Did you get hit on the head? Feeling nauseous? Dizzy?“, he asked while feeling Sherlock's head for any bumps or dents. You could never be careful enough with him. Instead of an answer though, he received a silent moan.

„Sherlock?“ 

„Hm?“

„Did you get hit on the head?“ 

„hm-hm. The case was tedious.“ John kept softly massaging his scalp. Sherlock looked like he was about to start drooling, his hands had fallen off the couch and he was turning his head from left to right, indicating where he wanted John to touch. 

Sherlock didn't like watching telly with a headache, but tonight they found a compromise. John had put on his favourite James Bond movie - and lowered the volume until Sherlock could bear it - with Sherlock's head draped across his lap. So long as he kept scratching or massaging his drooling flatmates' scalp, the background noise was tolerated. But that was easier said then done. Sherlock was like a cat when it came to touch. 

„Lower. Lower. Right there. Aaah yes. Careful! Be a little gentle, okay? Now more to the left.“ John could barely concentrate on his movie over Sherlock's demands. 

Neither could Mrs Hudson, who had turned off her TV and was enjoying some of her 'medical herbs' with a small smile on her lips. 

„Yes, right there John. Keep going.“, the muffled voice rang through the thin walls off 221B.

She wasn't in the least bit surprised that Sherlock was the bottom, although she hadn't expected them to be the types for slow and gentle after all that she'd heard over the years. Then again, moods varied. 

„Ah, John! Do that again. Yeah, just like that.“

Oh, to be young again!


End file.
